"Here," she said, handing him a drink.
Still smiling, he noticed. The number two smile—to a prospective suitor, provocative and understanding. It had been preceded, in their relationship, by the number one nice-girl smile, the don't-misunderstand-me smile, to be worn on all occasions, until the correct words have been mumbled.
"That's right," the voice said. "It's in how you look at things."
Look at what? Anders glanced at Judy, annoyed at his thoughts. If he was going to play the lover, let him play it. Even through the astigmatic haze of love, he was able to appreciate her blue-gray eyes, her fine skin (if one overlooked a tiny blemish on the left temple), her lips, slightly reshaped by lipstick.
"How did your classes go today?" she asked.
Well, of course she'd ask that, Anders thought. Love is marking time.
"All right," he said. "Teaching psychology to young apes—"
"Oh, come now!"
"Warmer," the voice said.
What's the matter with me, Anders wondered. She really is a lovely girl. The gestalt that is Judy, a pattern of thoughts, expressions, movements, making up the girl I—